[Log] Ista's Youngest
Who: Bresis, E'sere, T'zen
When: Day 25, Month 8, Turn 1, 7th Pass
Where: Northern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
What: E'sere welcomes Bresis to the High Reaches.
Northern Bowl
The bowl floor is a broad expanse of gravel and dust, packed flat over decades of dragonweight landing on it. Kept free of vegetation, the only color variation across the vast hollow of the bowl are the dragons, in good weather often found sunning on low ledges or sprawled along the floor itself. The well-worn, charcoal-grey walls of the bowl are nearly vertical, far too steep for even the most adventurous climber to attempt. The rim of the bowl, marked by a rainbow of perching dragons at all times of the day, is topped with massive stone spires that stretch upwards into the blue vault of the sky. There are seven in all, great black fingers of stone that seem, from where you stand, to touch the clouds.
A number of tunnels breach the walls of the bowl, leading to various indoor parts of the Weyr. To the southwest, a vast tunnel entrance descends to the baths, curls of steam seeping out on colder days. On the northern face of the stone, a huge gaping maw betrays the presence of the Hatching cavern. Somewhat more modest tunnel entrances lead to the living caverns and the versatile classroom chamber to the west, and the Weyrleaders' complex to the east. In the distance to the south, the vast grey-blue of the lake stretches off to meet the southern wall of the bowl.
It's a clear summer day and the sky above is a canvas of pristine blue brushed with wisps of white. It's not quite hot but the sun is bright enough to give that illusion.
Contents:
Bresis
Dragon Baths (DB) Living Cavern (LC) Classroom (C)
Hatching Cavern (HC) Weyrleaders' Complex (WC) Southern Bowl (SB)
Bresis
Brightened by copper, rich brown hair stays rife with loose waves and a few spare snarls. Longer in front, it shortens considerably at the neck's nape. A pair of blue-green eyes, bird of prey fierce, dominate a face with a small rounded nose and full usually sun-chapped lips. The next trait of interest is an army of dark freckles that decorate the pale skin all over her body. Many scars also haunt each limb with its back story. Dirty fingernails, flat curves and an athlete's build portray the rougher sides of femininity. With a height of 5'9", her posture is held stiff and straight - pride possibly one of her vices.
A midnight blue tunic, appropriately sized, is overlaid with a trim, lightweight, grey leather vest. The bottom of a sheath is just out of reach of the shirt's hem. Ecru cotton pants are in an older condition than all the other garments, it being vaguely stained and its color dull. Trail-worn boots, with about a many scars and pockmarks as their owner, cover her shanks to the knee. There is no jewelry, save for a bone earring. Appropriately, an Ista Weyr knot with a twist of yellow denotes her status as a goldrider.
Gliding down from his ledge above, slender Morelenth lands lightly at the northern end of the bowl to allow his rider to dismount. E'sere slips down the bronze's side and glances around curiously, as though waiting for someone. "We're early; give him a few more minutes. You know how they are," he tells the dragon after a moment, shaking his head.
Fingers stretch inadequately to reach a carry sack secured to the other side of a gold dragon's neck, her rider too lazy or stubborn to climb down and retrieve it from the other side. "Lean a little up, twist or something could you?" Shifting her weight, Mallorineth raises her right arm almost to her back. "Ahhh, got it!" Triumphant in their success, Bresis drags the bag back down with her and is not prepared to deal with one of the locals. Or so it seems. They are a respectful gap apart, but not much more than a dragonlength. Lor deeply studies the bronzeriding pair and her rider avoids conversation by pretending to take inventory of her belongings.
While E'sere turns to tapping a foot lightly, arms folded across his chest, Morelenth peers curiously as the young gold, rumbling a greeting that eventually turns E'sere's attention that way. He watches Bresis' struggles a moment, before finally uncrossing his arms and stepping forward. "Need some help, weyrwoman?"
Bresis pulls out something she wants now, pinning a thin scarf between her teeth while she uses her hands to cinch the strings closed. She considers the condition of the top dome of her helmet, tracing familiar pockmarks and scratches and it's a question which causes a brief fumble of the head piece. She hurriedly pulls the cloth out of her mouth. "Where am I? Well I mean I know I'm in High Reaches Weyr, but where do Caucus... people go to report?" A hand flies and swishes like a sparrow while she talks, ever so slightly breaking away from her dragon.
E'sere arches a brow, pausing at Bresis' words as Morelenth edges closer behind him. "Headmaster Sefton, I'd recommend," he tells her, "though if he's not in his office, I can't help you. I don't suppose it would be a problem if you went ahead and put your things in the barracks until you can speak with him. Ista's youngest, aren't you, weyrwoman? I didn't think we'd be getting any more students in the middle of a term, but. Wingleader E'sere, and Morelenth," he introduces himself and the dragon hovering behind him.
Bresis and her two bundles stand out from the tawny backdrop behind them. "It wasn't exactly something I volunteered for, but here I am." Releasing a dry grin, "I think I can make the most of it." The orange scarf is wound once around and under her hair, a knot drawn tight. "I'm not usually this patriotic," speaking of the Istan color of her accessory, "but I thought it'd make me stand out a little. But thank you for the information," already trying to guess with a long-lived glance towards the Weyr entrances which one will be their home. "I'm Mallorineth and this - well that certainly didn't come out right. Bresis. I'm Bresis of Ista and this is Mallorineth." A head jerk towards the willowy gold.
E'sere peers curiously at the woman, brows arching. "I see," he answers slowly. "It always surprises me how many of our students seem reluctant to be here." But, with a shrug, he continues, "It's nice to meet you, though. How are your Weyrleaders and the rest of Ista? If you like, I can show you to the barracks, though I don't have long."
Bresis clamps her arms together in a loose fold, looking south to where her island home lies. "It's not so much I don't want to be here. I really love learning." But the second part of that statement fails to come out. "No I'm sure it's easy to find, I'd rather extract better things from you and your time." She releases the third of an indeterminable number of looks to E'sere, head slanting left, eyes more blue than green for the moment. "Are you in the Caucus?"
E'sere, with a small smirk, shakes his head. "Me? No, weyrwoman--I graduated a long time ago," he answers, brows arched. "I was part of the first Caucus session. Are you sure, weyrwoman? I can spare a few minutes to escort you there--my appointment is running late already, anyway," he adds wryly.
Bresis isn't surprised when a familiar drop of brown colors the vision of her left eye. Poking the piece of hair back behind the headband, "Short hair isn't my thing." Explaining and quickly tackling the next reply: "Okay, but only if we can talk while we walk." Each bag is fitted over the same shoulder. "Really? Then you are a pioneer. The rest of us are just riding your tail wind." The tall female draws close to the Wingleader's side and commences the pace. "So what should I expect, honestly?"
Self-effacingly, E'sere shakes his head. "I'd hardly call myself that, weyrwoman," he remarks lightly. "The real pioneers are those who created the Caucus. It was simply fortunate timing on my part to enter it then: I'd hardly graduated from weyrlinghood--rather like you, I believe." Stepping forward to meet her, he offers an arm chivalrously before setting off to the south. "What to expect. Hmm. You'll have lessons, of course, and you'll make a number of new friends--young weyrwoman like yourself, the brightest crafters, Blood of the holds. I certainly enjoyed my time as part of it."
Bresis blinks a glance over her shoulder to the gold dragon crouched on the ground with wings half-caped in full sunning mode. With humor in her dark alto about their age, "Was it that obvious?" Her free arm links with the man's after a coy glance to it first. "Well friends I guess everyone could use more of always, but lessons I'm not so sure. But if it's as you say, then the challenge should provide enough compensation to me. I might even be humbled." Now there's a challenge.
"I remember the hatching," answers E'sere simply. "I do try to keep up with such things." With a mild shrug, he remarks, "It's... It is a challenge, in some ways, but it's an enjoyable one. I wasn't entirely certain of it myself, but I ended up spending a couple of extra turns studying in our advanced programs."
Bresis maintains an easy pace, one her long legs fall into without difficulty. Being known somewhat offhand before gives E'sere a minor advantage. "Well then. I think I'm starting to get humbled." Taking in another glimpse of the man's face for it to be more prominently memorized. "A little anyway. Tell me," now having fully left the metallic dragons behind, "do you ever have a chance to learn from Crafters as well?" A light of hope catches in her face.
E'sere grins at that, nodding. "Some of our teachers are, yes, and I imagine some of the other students would be thrilled to discuss their craft with an eager ear," he explains easily. "Were you apprenticed before you impressed Mallorineth, then, weyrwoman?"
Bresis becomes aware of all the proper titles E'sere has been giving her during his last mention. "There's no need to be so formal with me, E'sere. I often forget who people are talking to when they call me 'goldrider' or 'weyrwoman.' Bresis will suffice or if you're willing and need something snappier, I have Bre as one of my nicknnames. The others I won't mention in public." Smiling into the wind, she pauses to allow the native rider to point out which opening they are to go into. "But you have no idea how that news makes me considerably happier. I was an apprentice with the ambition of Mindhealing, but Lor has bad timing."
Uneth descends from the sky above.
Uneth has arrived.
T'zen climbs down from Uneth's neck.
T'zen has arrived.
T'zen runs down Uneth's side as soon as the dragon comes to a halt from his landing. And after such a hurried exit, proceeds to walk casually into the caverns, nodding to those he sees.
T'zen ventures down the tunnel that leads into the living cavern.
T'zen has left.
E'sere offers T'zen a brief smile as he walks alongside Bresis. "I realize that, weyrwoman," he answers her, his words solemn though his smile less so. "But politeness is one of my faults. A healer, then? I'm... acquainted with one of our healers in the Caucus, a Journeyman Neiran." A pause. "The dragons' timing, in my experience, has always been impeccable--for them. Here we are, weyrwoman: the Caucus barracks. I'll leave you here, if that's all right?"
Bresis is relieved to allow the bags to fall lightly to the floor from the straps that were biting into her shoulder. "Well E'sere, it's a pleasure to have met you now that I have to unpack and explore this Weyr of yours. You'd best get back to your prior engagement then." Her escort is thanked more with a look of appreciation before her attention fixes on an cot to call her own.
"Good day, weyrwoman," answers E'sere with a small smile, before turning and heading back northward to meet his appointment.